


The Courier

by TheBeeThatHums



Series: It Had to Happen [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Confused John, F/M, Holmes!reader, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Sherlock is annoyed, Sibling!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: Sherlock's sister shows up on their doorstep in trouble. Can John and Sherlock assist?





	The Courier

John was sitting across from his flatmate Sherlock Holmes in a rare moment of peaceful quiet when the man suddenly sat bolt upright, “No. This is terrible.”

“What is?”

“It must be prevented. Too impulsive and devious. And there will be tea and conversation… It’s not too late.” He ranted rapidly, getting up to go to the stairs at a bound just as there was a knock on the door, yelling, “Don’t open that door, Mrs. Hudson. I can’t survive another visit. I’m still cross over the last…”

He trailed off seeing it was too late, Mrs. Hudson had already opened the door and you were now standing in their hallway. He took one look at you and his entire attitude changed, something was wrong, “What’s happened?”

You looked up at Sherlock from underneath a newsboy’s cap, revealing a badly bruised face, and your split lip trembled slightly, “It would seem I’m in a bit of trouble.”

He was down the stairs in a flash as you gave Mrs. Hudson the best grin you could manage, “Would you please excuse us? I need a word with him alone.”

She bustled away gladly as Sherlock took in your appearance. The way you were dressed you looked like a young boy, clad in a masculine shirt, jacket, and trousers with your hair tucked under your cap and you curves expertly hidden, and now that he was closer he could see you were bleeding, taking hold of your arm as he called for John, who was still standing at the top of the stairs.

Before anything could be done there was shouting outside and then a banging on their door, causing you to look over at it annoyed, “Bugger all.”

“You led them here? You know better.” Sherlock scolded calmly, grabbing a nearby umbrella as his mind calculated what would happen next.

“I thought I lost them but a blow to the head makes everything a little fuzzy, so you’ll have to excuse the fact that I was wrong,” you snapped sarcastically, falling into a defensive stance as the door flew open.

Three men filled the room and Sherlock shoved one with the umbrella before cracking it over the head of another just as you clocked the first one in the gut and then smashed your knee into his face. John could only stand back and watch as the two of you fought in complete sync, each anticipating the others movements, and soon all three men were on the ground unconscious.

Sherlock shot you a wicked grin, “Glad to see you haven’t lost your edge even if you did lead them straight to my doorstep.”

You gave a weak grin in return before wobbling dangerously and leaning on him for support. He wrapped an arm around your waist only to have you pull away, moving to go up the stairs as you stated, “There are more. I have to go.”

Sherlock began to follow you, “You’re injured.”

You didn’t even pause, offering, “A very astute observation Sherlock. Now, why don’t you put it to use and fetch me some bandages and the like? Your doctor friend should have plenty.”

Changing his course to do as you asked, he waved for John to follow you as you disappeared into his room, “Keep my work safe, Watson.”

John turned to go after you and found you rummaging through Sherlock’s closet, finally pulling out a pink dress he often used as a disguise with a huff, “Of course… It’ll do I suppose.”

You shed your jacket and trousers just as Sherlock walked in, letting out an annoyed sigh as he spun John to face away from you, “It is not proper to watch a lady undress, Watson.”

John startled badly, not having realized you were a woman, and Sherlock smirked at him as he scoffed, “And you claim to be a gentleman.” Before returning his attention to you, “It doesn’t suit you, (F/n).”

“That is hardly my fault… your taste in dresses is atrocious,” you responded, coming to grab the bandages from Sherlock as you shook out your hair and plopped your cap on his head.

Moving past both of them, you grabbed a nearby bowl to pour antiseptic over a gash on your arm, the source of the blood, as John looked you over. The dress was slightly too large but it made you look distinctly feminine and your hair fell in disheveled waves down to your waist. You hissed in pain as you quickly bandaged your arm, going to the window as you did so to watch another small group of men approaching the flat, “Would you be willing to do me a favor, Sherlock?”

“Of course.”

You flashed him a grin as you opened the window and stepped up on the sill, “You have my thanks. Remind me that I owe you one later.”

Before either of them could do anything you’d jumped, catching the ledge below to swing yourself down to the street and right in the path of the men. John rushed to the window in time to see you bounding down the street, leading the men away from their flat, “Care to explain, Sherlock?”

“Not particularly, no.”

He turned to level his friend with a demanding glare before his eyes found your satchel on the table, “She left her bag.”

Sherlock took it up in his hands, catching the note that slipped out of it with a small smirk, “Her favor.”

The note simply gave a name and location with ‘Don’t be late’ and you initials written underneath it and Sherlock grabbed his coat, “Come along, Watson, and grab your doctor’s kit. We cannot be late.”

John knew better than to question where they were going or how you’d known to leave them a note, grabbing his things and following Sherlock out the door. They made their way to the location you’d left them and found it to be an office in parliament, the name on the door the same as the one in your note. Sherlock actually knocked on the door as opposed to just bursting through and a proper looking gentleman answered the door, “May I help you?”

Sherlock reached into your satchel to produce a thick leather envelope the size of a sheet of paper and held it out to him, “Important delivery.”

The man eyed him suspiciously before taking the envelope and examining the multiple seals to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with, “You aren’t the usual courier.”

“She was held up but wanted to make sure it reached you on time.”

He pursed his lips but seemed to accept that, “It looks to not have been tampered with. I will accept it.”

Now that that was done, Sherlock stalked out to the street as John asked, “So she’s a mail courier?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Hardly, she is a courier of important items and documents that no one else can be trusted with.”

He just nodded in response, thinking that over, and Sherlock took off at a fast pace again causing him to ask, “Where are we going now? The flat is in the other direction.”

“We, my dear Watson, are going to ensure she gets proper medical attention.”

You arrived home to the smell of tea, letting out a heavy annoyed sigh when you saw Sherlock and John in your sitting room, John quietly observing his surroundings as Sherlock messed with your Viola, “Put that down. I just replaced the strings and I don’t need your clumsy fingers messing them up again.”  
John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock obediently replaced the Viola in its original location, wondering who you were to have that kind of pull on the eccentric detective. You’d changed from the dress to a men’s suit complete with coattails and your hair was considerably shorter and tied back in a pompous old style fashion with a ribbon, making you look like a French nobleman.

Sherlock pursed his lips as you peeled off the jacket and shook out your hair, stating, “Your commitment to the disguise went a little far don’t you think (F/n)”

Knowing he was referring to your hair, you shrugged, pouring yourself some tea from the pot on the low table in front of them, “A trim was long overdue and I’ll admit the timing could have been better but it was certainly useful in the moment.”

He took the tea from your hand before you could drink it and pushed you down on your loveseat next to John, “You need medical attention, which Watson here will gladly provide.”

John opened his mouth to get a word in since both of were behaving as if he wasn’t there but you shot a glare at Sherlock as you got up again, “I was rather enjoying you being cross with me though I am grateful for your help today.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You made me cross with you on purpose? Why? I’m a delight and you enjoy my company.”

“I did nothing of the sort. I simply meant the absence of your fretting was rather nice… additionally, it was you who issued the challenge remember? I merely beat you at your own game. I would have thought you’d be proud of me.”

He pushed you back down next to John with a small smirk, “I never said I was not proud as well as cross.”

You looked up at him a little surprised, searching his face for signs of deception, and he reached forward to gently graze the bruises on your face with a little frown. That little show of affection sent John over the edge, “Sherlock I believe you owe me an explanation and a proper introduction.”

You both turned to look at him and you gave a small grin, “I see Sherlock has forgotten his manners as usual.”

“I haven’t forgotten- simply ignored.”

You chuckled and then offered your hand to the confused doctor, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Watson, my name is, (F/n). (F/n) Holmes.”

“Watson, I’d like you to make the acquaintance of my younger sister.”

He gaped for a second and then simply offered, “Well that certainly explains a lot.”


End file.
